


Ordinary Fly

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-04
Updated: 2010-09-04
Packaged: 2019-01-19 06:34:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12404979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: An ordinary day in England is cold and dreary, at least for Lily Evans. Until an ordinary boy comes along and changes things up. Oneshot, songfiction to "Ordinary Day," by Vanessa Carlton.





	Ordinary Fly

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

**Disclaimer: All characters, location, etc. belong to J.K. Rowling. All lyrics belong to Vanessa Carlton.**  


The weather is the thing Lily Evans most despises about England. It is mid-May and despite the expression “April showers bring May flowers,” there is not a bloom in sight. From her position by the Quidditch pitch, Lily should have a beautiful view of the grounds: rolling green hills, the sprawling Black Lake and, beyond, the Hogwarts Castle itself. Instead the landscape is covered in a blanket of fog, rendering the building and entire hilltops completely invisible. The air is heavy and dreary, as though the atmosphere itself is exhausted of the weather. 

Lily is not the type to torture herself by sitting outside, but she feels as though one more minute in Gryffindor tower would make her explode. So she sits under a young oak tree, covered by its hanging branches in complete solitude. She scribbles her Charms essay on a piece of parchment that is braced against her knees. Lily knows that she should really do a more thorough job, seeing as her N.E.W.T.s begin next week, but right now she cannot bring herself to care. 

She glances again toward the Quidditch pitch. The hoops rise about twenty feet in the air before being completely covered by the fog. Lily wishes she could climb one way up into the sky, above the fog. She could climb up to where she is free of the weather, of the things that drag her down. But she is stuck on Earth, beneath this layer of heavy fog, unable to escape. 

Laying, wishing for something to happen. Lily puts down her quill and stretches herself out under the tree. Looking up at the branches, she feels more caged in than ever. 

_Just a day,_

_Just an ordinary day,_

_Just trying to get by,_

The giant poles on the pitch capture her eyes again, fascinating her. Contrary to popular belief, Lily does not hate Quidditch. In fact, she’s rather fond of it. She envies the players their ability to fly, to leave the ground, to be free. It is one of her biggest regrets that she is Earth-ridden. 

The cracking of a stick breaks Lily from her reverie. He head snaps up and she glances around, eyes finally landing on the intruder of her peace. She can make out the outline of the figure: a tall boy carrying a broomstick on his left shoulder. He walks alone with a nearly silent tread, obviously headed for the place Lily so envies. She cannot help but notice that his head is tilted backwards, as though he looks up toward the grey clouds. 

_Just a boy,_

_Just an ordinary boy,_

_But he was looking to the sky._

Lily thinks that she is invisible to him, lying under her tree, but as she shifts on the ground, he somehow hears her. He walks to her, and as he approaches, Lily recognizes him. 

Messy raven-coloured hair, hazel eyes, a long, lean figure, there’s only one boy in Hogwarts with that appearance, and Lily knows him well. He is her fellow Head, one of the most sought after guys, and the star Quidditch player of her House team. To Lily’s shock, her heart beats a little faster as he approaches. Lily knows she has but precious seconds to decide whether to hide or stay. A year ago she wouldn’t have hesitated to run away, but things are different now. She stays. 

James Potter slips down next to her on the ground, his broom beside him. At first he says nothing, the two of them just sitting there, absorbing the dull view. When Lily looks at him, he’s smiling, his eyes raised to the fog in wonder. He turns to look at her, taking in her sad, dreary features. Lily stares back intently. 

He stands, adjusting his sweater and picking up his broom. Lily is surprised when he motions for her to get up, saying simply, “Come with me.”

_And as he asked if I would come along,_

_I started to realize,_

_That everyday he finds just what he’s looking for,_

_Like a shooting star, he shines._

James seems happy when Lily stands too. They walk side by side to the pitch. To her, he seems so easily amused, as though the slightest thing makes his day, as though he is always, always, happy. 

When they reach the field, Lily tears away, making for the stands. She plans to watch James fly, but he grabs her hand. “Come on.”

_He said, “Take my hand,_

_Live while you can,_

_Don’t you see your dreams lie,_

_Right in the palm of your hand?”_

Lily follows him on to the grass. She has never stood here before, but this may as well be James’ second home. He leads her to the center, where he drops her hand and mounts his broom, but shakes his head at Lily when she begins to back away. Her skin tingles as he grabs her wrist, pulling her in close. He whispers what he wants her to do in her ear. 

_And as he spoke,_

_He spoke ordinary words,_

_Though they did not feel,_

_For I felt what I had not felt before_

_And you’d swear those words could heal._

He pulls her onto his broomstick, sitting her in front. He leans forward to grab the handle, pulling her into his chest. Lily’s back shivers as his arms wrap around her and he braces his feet to push off the ground. 

They burst into the air, and Lily starts as they fly low. Then James tilts the broom upward, and the two fly high into the air. They break through the fog, flying completely surrounded by grey. 

_And as I looked up into those eyes,_

_His vision borrows mine._

            They reach the top of the sea of darkness, and escape into the sky. They are totally soaked, but it doesn’t matter. Lily presses herself into James for warmth, but in that moment the sun shines on them. 

            She looks around, taking in the world. The highest spindle of the Hogwarts Castle has joined them in this other world. The ground it white, the sky is blue, and the great yellow sun smiles upon them. Lily turns her head to look at James as he flies above the cloud. He grins, and though Lily is certain he has done this before, his eyes are full of as much wonder as hers. 

_And I know he’s no stranger,_

_For I feel I’ve held him for all of time._

She feels a connection to him, as if he knows her like no one else. They fly along their white world until James stops the broom, hovering in place. He releases the handle, sitting up straight and leaving Lily clinging to the broom. James swings his leg over the side, and Lily watches in horror as he slips off slowly, lowering his feet to the cloud. But his feet stabilize on the water droplets and he stands. He slowly extends a hand to Lily. 

_And he said, “take my hand,_

_Live while you can,_

_Don’t you see your dreams lie,_

_In the palm of your hand?”_

Lily lands lightly on the fog and grabs the offered hand. His eyes please her to follow, though he says nothing. Together they walk, heading toward the only thing in sight. 

As they walk, they pass many things, though Lily swears there is nothing there but them. A roller coaster roars on their right, a flute hums a sweet melody on her left, and Lily knows she smell cotton candy. 

They reach the tower and find a door on it. James reaches for the knob, pulling it open. They walk through a doorway, into a flowery meadow. Lily hears a piano, and is able to see it too. A young, black-haired woman sits there. As James pulls Lily through the tall green grass, the woman begins to sing. 

_Please come with me,_

_See what I see,_

_Touch the stars for_

_Time will not flee,_

They begin to run. Lily’s fire-red locks streak out behind her as the two tear across the field. James stops suddenly when they arrive at a little brook. He gets to his knees, placing his hands on the ground and watching fish in the stream. Lily glances around the clearing, her eyes landing on the pianist. The girl sings still, louder to make herself heard at the distance. Her voice swells as Lily kneels beside James. 

_Time will not flee,_

_Can’t you see?_

But James pitches forward into the creek, and Lily is dragged along when she throws out an arm to stop his motion. The two fall into blackness. The sound of the piano disappears and though she twists and turns, Lily cannot find James in the dark. 

Her fall slows and she feels herself spiraling down. At last, she comes to rest and her vision returns. Lily is lying under the oak tree, facing the Quidditch pitch, a grass imprint on her cheek. 

_Just a dream,_

_Just and ordinary dream,_

_As I wake in bed._

But Lily does not wallow in confusion for long. Only a moment later, she notices a twig cracking and a tall figure walking, broom propped on his shoulder. 

_And the boy,_

_That ordinary boy,_

_Was it all in my head?_

She remembers earlier, James coming and taking her flying. Hadn’t they gone up through the clouds? Hadn’t they walked hand in hand through a meadow, listening to a pianst?

_Didn’t he ask if I would come along?_

_It all seemed so real…_

Lily looks up at the figure, and to, her surprise, it stands close to her, at the edge of her oak. James Potter stands, his trademark smile on his face.

_But as I looked to the door,_

_I saw the boy,_

_Standing there with a deal._

James does not sit; he simply reaches out his free hand. Lily grabs it and he pulls her to her feet. 

_And he said, “Take my hand,_

_Live while you can,_

_Don’t you see that your dreams lie,_

_In the palm of your hand?”_

They walk again toward the pitch, but Lily does not break away this time. She stays by his side, hands linked. When he mounts his broom, she follows without a second thought. 

_Oh, in the palm of your hand._

James pushes off and they shoot through the air. He is careful to stay below the heavy clouds, but the flight is not boring. The broom corkscrews and loops, plunges down and rises quickly. It is fast and exhilarating, and Lily never wants it to end. 

The ground is beneath her feet again far too soon, though they must fly for an hour. She knows now why she always envied the Quidditch players. There’s a freedom in flying that can’t be found when you’re rooted to the ground. At least, Lily had never found it before now. 

_Just a day,_

_Just an ordinary day,_

_Just trying to get by._

Lily returns to her spot under the oak tree. She picks up her essay as though nothing had happened, but her mind is ten feet away. It moves with a tall, black-haired boy with a broom thrown over his strong shoulder. His face is tilted up to the fog. 

_Just a boy,_

_Just an ordinary boy,_

_But he was looking to the sky._


End file.
